“But the best detectives don’t know what we know. I suppose I’ll have to tell them. Do you think it will do any good?”

“I think at this point, you stand a better chance of being taken seriously than before. He messed up by attacking Corrine. I have no doubt he did it to force you to back off, but I don’t think he thought clearly about what kind of resources the family name would pull.” Jackson shook his head. “And then it could be he’s so cocky he doesn’t care.”

“Or the game’s almost over.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to say that one.”

“I’m not foolish, Jackson,” she said quietly. “I may be young and lack investigative experience on criminal matters, but I’m no stranger to evil.”

He studied her for several seconds, and she could tell he was debating whether or not to say whatever was on his mind. Talking must have won out because he finally said, “I reviewed your file. I hope you don’t mind.”

She’d known he would. He needed to know enough about her before he could trust the information she provided him. There was plenty of general crazy in New Orleans, and there was no future in wasting time on the outrageous theories they came up with. Still, it always bothered her on some level that people had access to such intimate details about her life. Basically, that they knew as much as she did. It made her feel as if she were sitting at the table in her underwear, all her scars laid bare for observation. And speculation.

His expression shifted from expectant to contrite. “You do mind. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No. It’s all right. You’re not the first and you’ll never be the last. Besides, you wouldn’t be much of a detective if you took me at face value and didn’t check up on me.”

“True. But it’s got to be hard…the most private things about your life being so public.”

“There was a media circus at first. Corrine taking custody of me made it a bigger deal than it would have normally been, but it was worth it. If not for Corrine, I wouldn’t have a normal life. She knew exactly what I needed and had the resources to provide it. Without her, I’m not sure I’d even be here.”

“Oh, you’d be here. You’re a fighter. That much is obvious. But you might not be as pleasant.”

She smiled. “You think I’m pleasant? That might be a first.”

He grinned. “I’m around cops and criminals all day long. The bar isn’t all that high.”

“You really know how to flatter a girl.”

He sobered and looked down at his coffee, then back up at her. “Have you ever thought about looking into things…for yourself, I mean?”

Shaye considered his question before answering. Not because she didn’t know the answer, but because she wasn’t sure it was something she was ready to share with anyone else.

But if not now, when?

She’d been keeping it all in, talking openly only to Eleonore, and it got harder every day to keep the wall around her erect. Maybe it was time to let her guard down. Time to start trusting that the world contained more good people in it than her mother and her psychiatrist.

“I think about it every day,” she said. “Unanswered questions are the reason I wanted to be a PI.”

“But?”

“But I’m not sure I’m ready for the answers.”

He nodded. “Well, when you are, and if you want some help, I’m available.”

The sincerity in his words was so clear, and a warm feeling passed over Shaye. Aside from family, medical personnel, and a few choice others, she’d never felt that people really wanted to help her. Instead, she felt they’d wanted to gawk at her like those people who slowed to look at car accidents. Jackson was different from anyone she’d met before. He looked at her like a real person, an individual. Everyone else saw the girl with the missing past, the poor abused victim, Corrine Archer’s daughter, or Pierce Archer’s granddaughter. It was a good feeling to be seen as only Shaye, but also one she wasn’t quite comfortable with.

“Thank you,” she said.

He must have sensed her discomfort because he changed the subject. “But first, we solve the mystery of David Grange.”

Guilt nagged at Shaye and she couldn’t help launching one more protest, no matter how feeble. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate your help, but promise me you won’t do anything to jeopardize your job. I wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt.”

“I promise I’ll be very sneaky, but I want to do this. I was there the night Emma killed David. I saw what it did to her. I want answers for her as much as you do, and more importantly, I want this sick bastard behind bars so that he can never do this to anyone else.”

“Then I guess we better get to work.”

Chapter Sixteen

It took Jackson less than a minute to locate the law office where Stephen Moore worked and only double that time to flash his badge at the dour receptionist and get a pass through even though she’d made it clear that Mr. Moore talked only to people with scheduled appointments. The walk down the hallway to Moore’s office took less than ten seconds, but he was sure Mrs. Dour had called to warn him, because Moore was already standing behind his desk, looking a bit anxious, when Jackson stepped inside.

As Jackson approached the desk, Moore moved to the side and extended his hand. “Stephen Moore. Mary said you’re with the police?”

“Yes.” Jackson flashed his badge, but didn’t give Moore long enough to zero in on his name. If he could get out of here without Moore knowing who he was, that was probably for the best. He’d done some background checking before he’d driven to the law office. He knew Moore specialized in corporate law, which meant he spent his days making a lot of money getting corporations off for crappy things that corporations tended to do. Moore had the money, the family backing, and the business connections needed to cause problems for him if he weren’t careful.

Moore motioned to the chair in front of his desk and took a seat behind it, clearly uncomfortable with Jackson’s silence. Jackson took a seat and studied Moore for a couple more seconds before speaking. “Do you know Emma Frederick?”

“I, uh, yes. I knew her in high school, that is.”

“But you don’t know her now?”

“We haven’t been in touch for some years.”

Jackson nodded, glancing around the room. He pointed to a framed photo of Moore and Emma displayed on a credenza. There were other pictures of Moore and older people, probably his parents, but no other pictures of women. And based on the photo, Moore had definitely changed his appearance. The man sitting in front of him barely resembled the younger version in the photos.

“You haven’t seen her in years, but you still keep a picture of her?” Jackson asked.

“She was a wonderful girl, and we had some good times. I prefer to surround myself with positive items rather than impersonal vases and such.”

“Sure. I bet the new girlfriend doesn’t feel as positive about those pictures though, right?”

Moore’s ears reddened. “I’m not seeing anyone seriously right now. How can I help you, Detective?”

Got a bit of a rise out of him with that one. 

Stephen Moore wasn’t the harmless innocent that he tried to portray. There was a temper in there. “Ms. Frederick is having a bit of trouble,” Jackson said.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t practice criminal law.”

“She doesn’t need a lawyer. She needs the man who’s stalking her to stop.”

Moore’s eyes widened. “I…I don’t understand. Why are you talking to me?”

Jackson held in a smirk. A person with no guilty feelings would have launched into sympathy or a rant about violence and society. Moore had gone straight to “why me?” “I understand you visited Ms. Frederick at the hospital yesterday.”